


The Night Before the Storm

by kavkakat



Series: demonsweek2013 [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, it's the calm before the storm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-18
Updated: 2014-07-18
Packaged: 2018-02-09 10:06:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1978797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kavkakat/pseuds/kavkakat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean doesn’t worry the night before the battle. Tessa doesn’t help him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Night Before the Storm

**Author's Note:**

> Supernatural / Game of Thrones crossover AU planned out with Alexandra. The different kinds of demons are different houses in the kingdom, and Sam is the Chosen One king of the Gold House, thought all but extinct. Ruby is the high priestess of his religion and lover; Dean is his general.  
> Posted first to my [tumblr](http://kavkakat.tumblr.com/tagged/demonsweek).

Dean left his brother’s quarters around the eleventh hour. The Messiah King (and wow, was it strange to call Sam that, even in his head) and his two closest advisers, besides Dean himself, were still planning their own assault on the White Keep. It was the job of Meg and Ruby to get Sam inside the keep and close enough to Lilith for Sam to kill her. It was important that Sam was the one to kill her – otherwise, the divine right to rule granted by the Trinity wouldn’t be passed along.

Dean hated it. All of it. He had been taking care of Sam ever since their mother had died and their father started his single-minded path of revenge. He should be going with Sam. But Dean was the General of the Messiah King’s army. He couldn’t just decide against leading them. Lilith’s general was Abaddon, and Dean knew that he’d have his plate full thinking around her strategy and tactics. And no one else had Dean’s experience, or held the same amount of respect from the demons, the humans, and the wild tribes. Dean was needed in battle.

And that was why Dean left his brother’s council when he did. He needed to be as rested as possible for the battle tomorrow. He felt a strange calmness. He knew he should be nervous, be afraid. Maybe he was, and just didn’t know it. He had been planning this battle for so long, training for it since Sam’s negotiations with Queen Eve had given them the warriors needed to meet Lilith’s army on an even plain, that he couldn’t be sure that it was finally time.

Dean left the lights off when he entered his quarters. The locks engaged behind him with soft clicks (and he still wasn’t used to having good security, either) as he stripped off his shirt and tossed it onto the floor. It didn’t matter where; he’d just put it back on tomorrow and then burn it, because he had no doubt that after tomorrow there’d be so much blood on it no one could wash it out.

He pushed his trousers down as well and fell on his bed, burying his face in the soft pillows. Another surprise – no bed bugs. Apparently, bed bugs were only found in the slums. Who knew.

The sheets on the other side of the bed rustled and tugged at the edges trapped under Dean’s weight. He turned his head to the side, resting it on crossed arms. He smiled slightly and watched his lover untangle herself and face him. Tessa was dark and serious, and that made times like this – when she graced him with a sleepy smile – all the more beautiful, because he knew she was comfortable with him. Her pale Reaper’s eyes shone in the dark, even though shadows hid most of her from him.

Dean reached out and pulled Tessa closer, an arm around her waist. “Didn’t wait up for me, did you?” he murmured.

“Not at all,” Tessa said. “You’re not the only one who has a job to do tomorrow.”

That’s right. The Reapers were battlefield priests, known as the sons and daughters of Death because they would give warriors honorable deaths and see their souls off to the next life. No one would dare attack a Reaper (not only would they fail, but the Reapers would let that man die dishonorably and wander the earth alone), but Dean had seen how much using her powers could tire Tessa. It was better that they both rested.

Dean nuzzled her face and then dropped a light kiss on her lips and pulled her closer against him. She turned into him, a hand settling on his waist and the other curling around his head. She whispered, “Are you afraid?”

He shrugged, because what could he say?

She nodded against him and said, “I was scared, too, the day of my first battle.”

“I’ve fought battles before,” Dean scowled, because how else had they won the entire city but the White Keep except through him and his army? Okay, Sam had helped, but Dean had led the battles.

Tessa smiled, lips curling against his temple. “But this is the important one. You could be gone this time tomorrow.”

And that was it, wasn’t it? Dean might court Death, might bed His daughter, but at the end of the day, he was just a man, and men can die. Must die. Even demons died, and they weren’t exactly human anymore.

“I’m not scared,” Dean whispered, and hoped it was the truth.

Tessa swept her thumb over Dean’s cheekbone, and she looked like she was considering him for a moment. For what, he didn’t know and didn’t want to know. Then she tilted her head and said, “If you fall I will be there, Dean. I swear this to you. I will make sure your death is honorable. You will not suffer here.”

Dean let out a breath he didn’t know that he was holding. He closed his eyes and tightened his grip on her. “I know,” he said quietly. “Thank you.” There was nothing more he could ask of her. And if, by some miracle, he was still alive this time tomorrow, after the White Keep had been secured, then he knew she would find him and climb into bed next to him. She always did. Not even after he tortured and killed Alistair did she stay away, when even Sam had backed off and left him to his whiskey.

Tessa hadn’t. She’d locked herself in with a monster and cleaned the blood off him and sometime Dean had emerged and the monster was locked back in the darkest part of his soul. Sam would have suggested that he pray to Lucifer to cleanse him. (Dean would have punched him if he’d heard that.) Tessa tucked him into bed and combed through his hair and told him about the men and women she had killed. There were many, more than Dean had killed, and she remembered each of them. How they died, yes, but more importantly, how they lived.

For what was a little to a daughter of Death? Everyone died. It was common, simple even, to die.

Living was much more interesting.

It was then, as Dean buried his face in Tessa’s hair and felt her exhales against his neck, that he promised himself that he would be alive tomorrow night.


End file.
